


That One Time Jaskier Made Culinary History

by Jadelyn, yolkipalki



Series: The Semi-Charmed Life of Julian Pankratz, Assistant Manager at Suzy's Adult Novelty Boutique [3]
Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Retail, Alternate Universe - Roommates/Housemates, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Apartment, Apartment AU, Assistant Manager Jaskier, Awkward, Dirty Talk, Dramatic Jaskier | Dandelion, Emotionally Constipated Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Gay, Hamlet - Freeform, I Don't Know Sounds Kinda Gay, Just Dude Things, Kink Discovery, M/M, Muscle For Hire, Not The Sex Shop AU This Fandom Deserves Or The One It Needs Right Now, Party Games, Possible Assassin Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Roommates, Semi-Charmed, Sex Shop AU, Sex Toys, Shakespeare, Shenanigans, The Semi-Charmed Life Of Julian Pankratz Assistant Manager at Suzy's Adult Novelty Boutique, There Was Only One Beer Float, bedroom games, cheap alcohol, damages - Freeform, dice - Freeform, dildo, feral sex, is it getting steamy in here or is that just the cauliflower rice?, it's kinda gay, it's really gay, pleasure rods, pocket pussy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-10
Updated: 2021-02-27
Packaged: 2021-03-16 04:27:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,829
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29326218
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jadelyn/pseuds/Jadelyn, https://archiveofourown.org/users/yolkipalki/pseuds/yolkipalki
Summary: It was 2 AM, and Jaskier was surrounded by cocks.  Just another Wednesday night: dicks, shitty alcohol, and Jaskier carrying on the proud tradition of terrible decisions made under the influence of both.  It would've been fine, just like all the other times - if not for his stupidly gorgeous serial killer roommate's unanticipated involvement.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: The Semi-Charmed Life of Julian Pankratz, Assistant Manager at Suzy's Adult Novelty Boutique [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2128668
Comments: 16
Kudos: 99





	1. Alas, poor Yorick!

**The Semi-Charmed Life of Julian Pankratz,**

**Assistant Manager at Suzy’s Adult Novelty Boutique**

。。。oOo 。。。

**That One Time Jaskier Made Culinary History**

**Chapter One: Alas, poor Yorick!**

By lemon (yolkipalki) & Jadelyn

。。。oOo 。。。

Geralt‘s neck ached and his eyes burned from the hours of delicate, precise work under the bright light. He flipped open his phone and glanced at the time. 

Fuck. It was already two in the morning. He needed a drink, needed to eat something.

On the plus side, waiting until the middle of the night meant Jaskier would be asleep or at least in his room and Geralt could avoid him entirely. He took a deep breath and stretched his arms, rolling his shoulders and feeling them pop. He made his way to the kitchen, idly wondering how long he could keep this up before Jaskier realized he had returned.

It didn’t surprise him that the living room light was on and the kitchen light was on and the bathroom light was on...and most of the cupboards and drawers opened. Jaskier left a very clear trail wherever he went. He never turned anything off when he was finished with it or closed anything up ever. After only a week Geralt was already used to turning off lights and closing cupboards for him, it was almost as bad as living with Lambert. It might be worse...Lambert could cook. 

Geralt reached the sink and filled his glass of water. Before he could take a drink he heard a shrill, ungodly noise from the room behind him. He spun to face it. 

“Alas, poor Yorick! I knew him, Horatio,” Jaskier moaned, flinging something around in his right hand and holding a pair of kitchen shears in the other, “a fellow of infinite jest, of most excellent fancy: he hath borne me on his back a _thousand_ times.” He laughed, trying not to break character to the empty living room. “And now, how abhorred in my imagination it is! My gorge rims at it.” 

Geralt was...confused. 

At this point, he was too caught up in abject bewilderment to interrupt. Jaskier hadn’t noticed him. Geralt’s very strange roommate was now leaning back on one hand and sliding his legs out as if he were a naked woman posing for a portrait holding a rose. Except it wasn’t a rose at all. It was what appeared to be a very small and girthy...plastic pink penis. 

“Here _hung_ those _lips_ that I have _kissed_ I know not how oft. Where be your gibes now? Your gambols? your songs?” He snipped off the head and pretended to weep. With a dramatic sigh, he tossed the now ruined plastic cock aside and rolled onto his stomach to fish around in a black trash bag for another. 

Jaskier was cross-legged, his gestures painfully theatrical. With a pair of dull kitchen shears, he was steadily gnawing through a comically large, purple silicone dildo. His eyes wandered behind him to the dark kitchen and he screeched like a small child, limbs flying up as if to shield him, scissors and dildo flying through the air. He made eye contact with Geralt, eyes wide with absolute panic. They suddenly narrowed though, with a fire in them that made Geralt choke on his tap water.

“Good evening, Dexter. Long time no see.” Jaskier quipped. His voice was curt and he wore an expression Geralt couldn’t place in part because he refused to look at him. “ It’s nice to see you still live here. I was beginning to worry I was going to have to hire Badger to pick the lock on your door.” 

Geralt said nothing, face scrunched curiously at the new nickname. 

“When did you get back from..where did you say you went again? Oh. That’s right, you didn’t.” 

“Three days ago.” 

“Thr-” Jaskier sighed, clearly exasperated. “Well. I guess you’re not obligated to let me know when you come or go, a heads up would be nice instead of waking up on the couch with your blanket draped over me and no sign of you for almost a month. I-,” his voice grew solemn. “I was worried about you.” 

Geralt didn’t know what to say so he chose not to say anything. It seemed like the wiser course of action. 

It's not like Jaskier minded. He didn't. It didn't bother him that Geralt had been gone for like three weeks and then not told him he was back home and alive. It didn't mean anything to him, waking up after the best sleep he'd had in years on the couch to discover that his surly roommate had brought him home, wrapped him up in Geralt's blanket, and then just peaced the fuck out, never to be seen or heard from again. He didn't even care, it was fine. He hadn't lost any sleep over the possible murderer now missing from his midst. He didn't worry that it was his fault that Geralt had left. 

In fact, it hadn't even crossed his mind that his new roommate had quite possibly just cut his losses and disappeared forever and ever, never to be seen again directly after he realized that Jaskier was too much of a bother. They were just roommates. Geralt could do whatever he wanted. It was fine. He literally could not have cared less.

“So. Welcome home from nowhere. I’m glad to see you seemed to enjoy the nothing that kept you doing whatever, wherever for three weeks. What brings you out of your secret sanctum?” 

“Nothing nearly as interesting as...whatever all of this is.” 

“Oh, I see you’ve taken an interest in my work, have you?” A flourish of the hand that delicately held the head of the now sawed-off silicone penis like a Baroque sculpture.

_Fuck. Don’t encourage him._

“No. That’s...not what I meant.”

“It’s okay, Dex. It’s not a glamorous job hacking the heads off these pretty, plastic cocks like some... butcher of pleasure.” He made another dramatic gesture as he tossed it over his shoulder to join the other fallen toys, “But alas, someone’s gotta do it.” He sniffled theatrically before continuing “And besides, you’re not wrong. I am, at this very moment, changing the world.” 

Geralt raised an eyebrow and waited for him to continue. 

“I’ve made culinary history tonight, my friend. Call Gordon Ramsay, call Jamie Oliver, call Elton...Alton? Yeah, Alton Brown, the Good Eats guy, because they are going to want a taste of this.” Jaskier stood and grabbed the glass that had been sitting next to him on the floor. He held it out to Geralt who looked at it suspiciously, sniffed it, and recoiled. “Ah, smart man. You would be right to make that face. For tonight, I have invented the most disgusting thing I’ve ever tasted in my entire life.”

Geralt looked at him with disgust and disbelief. 

“It’s called a beer float.” 

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” 

“I feel like that was directed at me _as a person_ and I’m feeling very attacked right now, I just want you to know that,” Jaskier said, not sounding the least bit upset by Geralt’s words as he held out the spoon with flat, cheap beer, and frothy melted ice cream. “Here. Just try it.” 

“No.” 

“Just...just like a taste.” He pouted at Geralt with big, blue eyes and something about it made Geralt want to smack him.

“Jaskier. Get that shit out of my face.” 

“Seriously, check it out, it’s disgusting. Look.” He took a sip and made a rather comical face, his head recoiling at the flavor. “Here. Try it.” 

“You nearly vomited on the floor just now. Why the fuck would I put that in my mouth?” 

“Because misery loves company, Geralt. Here. Just a sip...a little one...a tiny...little-” 

“Ah, so you do know my name.” 

“Just take the goddamned spoon.” He sounded like a stern parent but was prodding the spoon forward at Geralt again and again with a stupidly hopeful grin.

Geralt took the spoon from Jaskier’s hand and dropped it in the sink behind him. Jaskier glared at him with pursed lips.

“Rude.” Jaskier reached around him, dumped the rest down the sink, and made his way back over to the floor and the battlefield of silicone carnage. 

Geralt shook his head, pulling a bag of cauliflower from the freezer and throwing it in the microwave to steam. He opened the fridge and found it depressingly empty, with a head of broccoli, an excessive amount of condiment packets, and five bottles of beer left in the six-pack. The beer looked questionable at best. It was a brand that Geralt had never heard of before. 

“What the fuck were you thinking?” He found himself asking aloud.

“I’m going to assume you’re talking about the beer float, but you should know that is a question I get asked fairly often so in the future do try to be more specific.”

Geralt laughed, fighting the urge to suppress it. Jaskier stopped his work to look up at him with a small, genuine smile. Geralt hated how it made his skin feel raw. 

Clearing his throat he turned back to the fridge to grab a beer, his mind jumping back to the cheese drawer full of sauce packets. 

_Who the hell was this guy? And what was wrong with him?_

"You know you don't have to refrigerate these, right?" Geralt said as he pulled a large handful of fast food sauce packets from the otherwise empty drawer. 

"I am aware of this, yes. Thank you for that, Dexter. It just makes it less depressing to open the fridge when there's something inside of it. Now drink one of those bilgewater beers so you may know my suffering or I’m making you another beer float."

Geralt rolled his eyes and pulled a beer from the fridge, scrutinizing it.

“Fair warning though,” Jaskier added, “that stuff tastes like swamp ass. Far be it from me to judge though, if swamp ass is your thing, you’re more than welcome to have it. Try it for yourself.” Jaskier continued, as he hacked away again, this time at a fleshlight about the thickness of Geralt’s forearm. 

Geralt shrugged, sticking the bottle between his molars and prying the cap off with them. 

Jaskier made a horrifying noise. “Sweet baby Jesus in a breadbasket. What the fuck is wrong with you? The bottle opener is _literally_ right there on the fridge.” He waved his arms wildly at Geralt. “You are a monster.” He accentuated his disgust with a fake gagging noise like a cat hacking up a furball and then looked at Geralt as if he were disappointed in him.

Geralt laughed again and shrugged, taking a sip of the beer. He held it in his mouth for a moment unsure of whether or not it was safe to swallow it. 

“I told you. Bottled swamp ass.” Jaskier snorted, nodding at Geralt. 

Geralt managed to choke it down, finding himself sipping on the truly revolting drink. He flipped the bag of cauliflower rice and put it on more time, content to watch curiously as Jaskier nearly sliced his finger off trying to wedge his dull scissors between the folds of a fleshlight. 

“Okay. I have to know. What the fuck are you doing?” 

Jaskier looked up at him, genuinely surprised that he had asked. “Hmm? Oh.” Geralt could see the realization dawning on Jaskier’s face. He seemed to understand how odd it must have looked and he laughed. “Well I'm maxed out on hours this week, been picking up everyone's shifts so I don’t work for the next few days and I haven’t had that kind of freedom in like eighty-four years. Anyways, corporate won't approve overtime for me and our store manager is...not in the picture at the moment for...reasons. So store damages have to be done by close on Tuesday each week and I’m the only one at the store that can do them currently This is all discarded product from work.” He flipped his hair from his eyes, toying with his labret with his tongue. “After it’s discarded in the system it has to be destroyed. The mall I work at is in a wealthier part of town though and I guess people have been dumpster diving for treasures from Suzy’s so I have to damage them out and dispose of them off the mall property. And I mean I could’ve damaged them out at work and then brought them here but our stock room is really small and like I said, I didn’t have the budgeted hours so I’m here working for free. _Yay_.”

“Dare I ask what products a store such as Suzy’s damages out.” Geralt raised an eyebrow, moving to sit at the kitchen table. 

“Nothing used if that’s what you’re asking. I refuse to take back used products, though that doesn’t stop my lovely customers from throwing said products at me in a blind rage when they’re told that I won’t refund their crusty cock ring that they assure me has never been used before.”

Geralt laughed at that and Jaskier hoisted a black trash bag onto a chair beside the table. 

“So basically any product that is broken in the store or in shipment, used for a display, defective products or ones malformed from heat or whatever, they all get damaged out. Along with any discontinued items or expired, in the case of like candy and flavored lube.” He dug around in the bag for a moment before making a face and pulling something out. “Here’s a great example. I have to go through and manually scrape the faces off these misprinted dice because my boss hates me.” He held out a handful of glow-in-the-dark dice to Geralt.

Geralt held out his hand and Jaskier dropped a set of them into his palm. He turned them over a couple of times before handing them back. “Sandpaper.” 

“I had the same thought,” Jaskier commented, as he grabbed a beer from the fridge and popped the lid off with the bottle opener. “But I’d have to walk to the hardware store and I doubt they’re open right now anyways. I have a nail file somewhere around here but I’d be sanding for the rest of my natural life, the only legacy I left behind would be the remaining sets of misprinted bedroom dice that I died before I could damage out.” 

“Hmm.” Without another word, Geralt got up from the table and went to his room. He came back moments later with a piece of sandpaper and tossed it on the table between them. “180 grit.” 

Jaskier smiled at him. “Thanks. Now it should only take me until I’m too old to eat off the senior menu at Denny’s. I have 86 of these sets to get through.” 

Geralt picked up the set that Jaskier had handed him before and moved them around in his fingers, looking at the faces. Jaskier peered up to look at him, polishing off the rest of the beer before setting down the sandpaper and watching Geralt toss the dice in the air a few times. Geralt noticed, and stopped setting them awkwardly on the table. 

“You played before? It’s quite fun. It can be absolutely ridiculous or incredibly sexy.” 

“It seems pointless. If you’d do it anyway why would you need the dice?” 

“First of all, it’s called foreplay Geralt, look it up. But more importantly, these are designed to intentionally break social rules.” 

Geralt looked at him with furrowed brows.

“You ever played spin-the-bottle?”

“No.” 

“Uh...ok, well have you heard of it at least?” 

Geralt grunted, choking down another swig of the awful drink. 

“Okay, I’m just gonna assume that’s a yes. Same concept. These games are designed to give people a socially acceptable setting to do the things they want to do but are afraid to do.”

Jaskier had lost him. 

“Okay. Think of it like this." He was resting his head in his palm, fingers twirling idly in his hair as he fiddled with his lip. "You have a friend and she’s incredibly attractive and you would very much like to bed her, at the very least snog a bit. But you’re afraid if you make a move she'll turn you down and your friendship will be ruined. So rather than risk losing the friendship for something that may not work out anyways, you let things stay the way they are.” 

Geralt nodded. 

“Okay, so then this same very attractive and incredibly beddable friend is at a party that you also happen to be at. Don't look at me like that, I know you'd never go to a party. It's hypothetical. Just pretend you have a life and friends for a moment. So anyway, someone brings out these dice and says ‘Hey we’re all consenting adults here who don’t make things weird unnecessarily so let’s play this just for the hell of it.’ And so you do. It allows you to make that move, possibly advance into that territory without making things awkward or weird or risking destroying the relationship. In part because the rules are established. There's no obligation to marry the girl because you played a dice game at a party once."

“Hmm.” 

_That’s...is that a good hmm or a bad hmm? I can’t tell._

“Now, that being said, some of these combos can get pretty weird. But, there's something you should know about me. I am a proponent of the deep-seated spiritual belief that just about anything can be incredibly erotic if you do it right.” He had set down the sandpaper and was leaning across the table now. “So, you just pick up the dice and roll them and then do whatever they say. It’s stupidly simple.” 

Geralt tossed the dice before he thought too much about it. 

**SUCK. FINGERS.**

“Suck...fingers?" Geralt read off the dice before leaning back in his chair, then before thinking immediately followed it up with. “I fail to see how that’s erotic.”  
  


Jaskier laughed, his hair falling into his eyes as he played with the rings on his fingers. He looked back up at Geralt, who looked confused. Taking a long drink of his dumpster brew beer he stopped himself. 

“Wait...what?”

_Oh shit. Was he serious? He was._

“It just sounds... odd, it doesn’t sound erotic.” Now it was Geralt’s turn to look away.

Geralt wanted to crawl inside his rib cage and stay there until one of them died...maybe both. Both might be good. His cheeks felt flush and his inhibitions ever-so-slightly impaired which kept him sitting across the table from Jaskier when everything inside of him screamed at him to retreat to his safe space, to the place where he knew the boundaries and the rules and didn’t have to worry about what odd things people did during sex or parties that were somehow considered universally erotic that he had never done. 

Before he could work up the courage to run away from the situation his stupidly attractive roommate looked up at him with abnormally bright, stormy eyes, bit his unfairly-shaped lips, and leaned across the table. With a fluttering breath, he turned Geralt’s wrist and swiftly sucked Geralt’s index and middle fingers into the heat of his mouth. Brilliant eyes fluttered under dark lashes, still fixed on Geralt’s face with an innocent, painfully curious stare.

Geralt’s eyes went wide, his head falling forward, as his lips parted just barely enough for a stuttering gasp to escape. 

The part of Jaskier’s brain that was constantly screaming at him, fretting into knots, begging for him to stop being an impulsive idiot was all the sudden dead silent. He didn’t worry about thinking or think about worrying, instead, he simply pulled Geralt’s fingers deeper into his mouth until they touched the back of his throat, hollowing out his cheeks and running the tip of his tongue along the underside of them.

Geralt slid his fingers slowly upwards, lifting Jaskier’s face and eyes to meet his gaze once more until his head could no longer move and the fingers slipped free of his mouth with a satisfying, wet pop. 

Jaskier lay there, splayed across the table, lips swollen and eyes blown wide. He didn’t move, arms tucked beneath his chest as if he were a child, leaning over the edge of his bed in prayer. 

“And...then you just roll them again and this time the other person goes,” Jaskier whispered.

Without taking his eyes off Jaskier he lifted the dice from the table and tossed them forward. Reluctantly breaking his gaze to glance at the glowing dice. Then Geralt had the last reasonable, cohesive thought he would have for the rest of the night.

_Your cauliflower rice is getting cold._


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What happens when the tension finally breaks?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A wild Jadelyn appears! Lem seems to think I do the words goodly when penises need to touch so uh, here's that.
> 
> Please note updated rating, tags, etc. It's gonna get Spicy this chapter, and then Spicier in the next.

TOUCH. FOREHEAD.

Geralt felt his heart fluttering in his throat. As his hand came into view, shaking far more than he was comfortable with, he gently ran his fingers through the feathered, messy hair that tumbled into Jaskier’s eyes, his finger tracing a gentle line from one corner of his forehead to the other.

They looked at each other for just a moment, eyes locked. But it felt like an eternity. Geralt cleared his throat, out of habit. Freezing and waiting for Jaskier’s response.

“Don’t think about it too much.” Jaskier found himself saying, though he wasn’t sure whether he was talking to himself or to Geralt. Jaskier slid off the table as casually as he could and made his way to sit on the edge beside where Geralt sat in his chair. Nice and casual, cool. No big deal. He grasped at the dice and rolled them quickly before his hands could shake again.

RUB. THIGH.

Jaskier reached his hand down, eyes still watching Geralt’s face reverently. His touch was firm and sure, something about it made Geralt’s bones melt. And as Jaskier ran his hand painfully slowly up Geralt’s thigh to the seam of his leg, he leaned in. Geralt’s neck craned to meet him, and Jaskier’s tongue darted out curiously to swipe on the underside of Geralt’s top lip before retreating. Jaskier moaned against his mouth, reveling in the stifled whine Geralt made as he squeezed just so. Geralt could feel the warmth radiating off of him. Taste the sweet heat of his breath.

Geralt took an abortive breath, lightheaded, cock fattening in his pants. The problem wasn’t that he had thought this was a good idea. The problem was that he wasn’t thinking at all. He washed down a beer on an empty stomach when he was already exhausted, and when Jaskier had put his lips on Geralt’s skin it was all over. Like coming up for air after drowning, Geralt couldn’t get enough. He was so desperate for the gentle touch, he floundered for it.

He was a little drunk.

He was significantly more drunk on Jaskier.

The touch was warm, almost electric. Geralt hadn’t felt anything like it in so long, maybe ever. He’d have to file that one away for comparison later, he couldn’t think right now. He trembled at the thought, at the feeling that he might just collapse under his touch. Jaskier slid gracefully into his lap, grinding his hips once, then twice.

Jaskier’s hand traced up his chest and along his collarbones, then back down his arms. Geralt could still feel the heat of his fingers tingle on his skin. It was deliberate and sure, soft and delicate. It was confusing and overwhelming and he needed more of it.

Geralt reached absentmindedly for the dice, his mouth chasing after Jaskier’s as he slid from Geralt’s lap to sit on the edge of the table. Jaskier turned to the side reading the roll out loud.

SQUEEZE. THROAT.

Geralt’s hand shot out, grasping Jaskier by the throat, and ever-so-slowly he stood. Jaskier’s breaths were shallow and quick, eyes fluttering, cheeks rosy and lips trembling as he gripped the edges of the table for dear life.

It was all so slow and deliberate, approaching each other like unknown entities as animals would. And just like feral animals, the tension snapped suddenly and surely and they collided. Teeth nipped at lips and skin, hands roaming blindly and tugged on clothing and hair.

Jaskier’s hand caught at the waist of Geralt’s pants, fumbling and hooking his fingers through the belt loops as he bucked his hips against Geralt’s.

Geralt ran his hands under Jaskier’s shirt, hitching it up under his arms to expose his chest. He ran his hands across subtle contours of muscle under soft, dark hair, exposing a tattoo: two sparrows swooping to form a “v” in the center of Jaskier’s chest. It framed the line of his shoulders and chest, drawing him in like a moth to a light. With a feral sound somewhere between a growl and a moan, Geralt ducked down to lick over the thin, fragile skin at the hollow of Jaskier’s throat before biting where the muscle of his throat met his collarbone.

Jaskier threw his head back with a sharp cry, rocking his hips forward in a desperate bid for pressure, for friction against his rapidly hardening cock. “Fuck...pl-please...oh f-fuck, Geralt…” he gasped breathlessly. _Fuck_ , his teeth were sharp. Some distant corner of Jaskier’s mind wondered if Geralt would bite hard enough to break the skin, and couldn’t decide whether to be aroused or appalled at the idea.

Didn’t matter either way, as an instant later Geralt let go anyway so that he could spin Jaskier around, pressing him against the table. Jaskier barely managed to let go of the damn belt loops before his grip tore them free, and a shudder rippled down his spine at being so effortlessly manhandled like that. Geralt’s hands made quick work of the fastenings of Jaskier’s jeans while he groped blindly across the table, knocking more discards onto the ground as he found a cracked bottle of lube and held it behind him for Geralt to take.

Geralt snagged the bottle with one hand and pressed the other between Jaskier’s shoulder blades, slamming him down onto the kitchen table where he stood, sprawled out, his shirt still hitched under his arms and around his throat. Geralt tugged on his roommate’s jeans and the boxers beneath, pulling them down to just below his ass, the front catching on the hardened length of his cock. Jaskier gasped again.

The broken lid posed no more than a moment’s obstacle and Geralt thumbed it off with ease, hips thrusting forward mindlessly at the sight of Jaskier spread out and bared beneath him. He spread Jaskier’s ass with one hand and with the other poured far too much lube directly over his hole, reveling in the filthy gasps and moans as the cold liquid dribbled down the inside of his thighs. Setting the bottle aside, Geralt traced his fingers down the base of Jaskier’s spine and circled the tight ring of muscle without pressing in.

“Please,” Jaskier whined, bucking into the touch.

Geralt laughed, low and satisfied. “Did you want something?” he asked.

“Fuck.” Another shudder, another desperate grind back into Geralt’s touch. “In - in me, Geralt, please.”

Teeth bared in a feral grin, he obliged, pressing just the tip of his forefinger in for the briefest instant before pulling back. Jaskier whimpered loudly, so Geralt did it again, and then a third time when the resulting sound broke on something almost like a sob.

The third time he pushed a little deeper and held there, unmoving, feeling Jaskier’s hole twitching around it. “You want it so bad, take it,” he hissed, his other hand sliding up Jaskier’s spine to grip his hair and tug his head back.

With an absolutely whorish moan, Jaskier obeyed, rocking back until Geralt’s finger was fully in him, then forward, then back again. He fucked himself on that single finger slowly at first, then faster, desperation in his movements. “Please,” he panted, “more, give me another.”

Geralt leaned down and bit at Jaskier’s side, over his ribs, rubbing the borderline obscene bulge in his jeans against Jaskier’s ass as he gave him the ‘more’ he’d begged for. His middle finger sank in easily and Jaskier immediately fucked himself back onto it fully, groaning at the delicious burn of it.

“Yes,” he said, “Oh, fuck, Geralt - your hands, your fingers, hnnngh…” He trailed off into a whimper.

“Yeah?” Geralt asked. He bit Jaskier’s shoulderblade this time, savoring the shiver it earned him.

“So good, oh you feel so fucking good darling, I need more, please,” Jaskier babbled.

Geralt’s breath caught sharply at the endearment. His snarl mixed passion and fury as he added a third finger, no longer letting Jaskier control the pace but fucking into him hard and fast.

The sound that escaped Jaskier’s throat was very nearly a scream, but in the best sort of way. “Yes!” he cried. “Fuck, yes, yeah oh - !” His voice cracked as Geralt curled his fingers and dragged them over his prostate. He scrabbled helplessly at the surface of the table, desperately needing something to hang on to as Geralt did it again, and again, with unerring accuracy. He felt as though he were going to cry. “Oh...fu-fuck, Geralt…G-...ah, oh, fuck - fuck me, please…”

“Is that what you want?” Geralt growled into his ear. He pressed the weight of his body down on Jaskier, who cried out, mouth falling open as he pushed up into Geralt. Geralt nipped at his ear. “For me to pin you down, bent over your own kitchen table, and fuck you raw right here? Just like this?”

“Gods, yes...please…” He whined as Geralt’s hands left him, settling only when he heard the sound of jeans being undone and the filthy sound of Geralt slicking up his cock.

“You want this?” Geralt asked, rubbing the tip of his cock over Jaskier’s hole, wet and ready and yet still so empty. “Tell me. _Say it,”_ he demanded, feeling half out of his mind with a craving he couldn’t begin to name - he wanted it, wanted to bury himself in the heat of Jaskier’s body, but even more than that he wanted to hear him _beg_ for it first.

“Please,” Jaskier groaned. He pressed his forehead into the cool laminate of the tabletop. “Geralt, please, I need it, need you - fuck me, please…” He sucked in a harsh breath, hips jerking back with a desperation he couldn’t ever remember feeling before. “Fuck me,” he begged, and suddenly that was all he could say. “Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me, f-”

Geralt smirked, and with one violent thrust buried himself deep inside Jaskier, turning those desperate pleas into a wordless shout. One hand clawed into Jaskier’s hip, the other curled around the back of his neck and pinned him down, kept him pressed against the table. Geralt tossed his head back and groaned, eyes slipping shut for a moment to better savor the tight heat of Jaskier’s ass around his cock.

"Fuck," he gasped. "Gods, Jask, you're so tight, feel so _fucking_ good." Jaskier keened and tightened hard around him at that, startling a harsh sound from Geralt's throat. "You like that?" he asked, a little breathlessly. "Like hearing how well your sweet little hole grips me, like you were made for this, made to have my dick inside you?"

_Ah, fuck,_ Jaskier thought hazily. _That's why he barely talks. He must just save all his words for this._

Geralt didn't give Jaskier a chance to answer, pulling nearly all the way out and slamming back in with all the force he had at his disposal, then again, and again.

Breathless little yelps fell from Jaskier's lips to announce each time Geralt bottomed out in him, though they were secondary to the slap of skin against skin where Geralt's hips met Jaskier's ass. Geralt fucked into him hard and fast and all Jaskier could do, pinned as he was, was take what he was given.

It was perfect, everything he hadn't dared to imagine it would be: bent over their kitchen table with his glorious sex god of a roommate pounding his ass. Jaskier hadn't been fucked this good in…maybe ever. He couldn't think coherently enough to compare, thighs shaking as Geralt's cock slid over his prostate with each thrust.

He wasn't going to need an extra hand to come from this, he could already tell. His boxers, still caught over his cock, gave him just the barest whisper of friction and between that and the genuinely godlike prick hollowing him out it was going to be more than enough to bring him off.

“Ge- Geralt," Jaskier moaned, feeling the sweet pressure building. "Fuck, fuck, Geralt, I'm -"

A deliciously feral growl sounded above him. "You gonna come for me?" Geralt asked - no, demanded. "Just like this, gonna come on my cock like a good boy?"

Jaskier whined deep in his throat at that, his normally taciturn roommate calling him a _good boy_ and all but ordering him to come on his cock. This man was going to be the death of him and he couldn't bring himself to care. "Yes," he said, "yes, yes, yeah, ah fuck don't stop, yes…Geralt…"

Geralt's thrusts got impossibly faster, stoking the fire in Jaskier’s gut to new heights. His climax hit in a blinding spray of sparks shooting up his spine, balls drawn achingly tight and cock twitching as he came.

Above him Jaskier heard Geralt grunt as though he'd been punched as Jaskier's hole clenched around him. "Fuck," he groaned, "Jask…" He started to pull back, some instinct even in his half-wild state wanting not to cause discomfort by continuing to fuck through Jaskier's post-orgasm oversensitivity.

But Jaskier reached back blindly, grabbing at him. "In me," he begged, between ragged gasps for air. "In me, in me, Geralt, in -"

It was too much, between the tight spasms gripping his cock and Jaskier begging so prettily under him. Geralt snatched the reaching hand and pinned it against the small of Jaskier’s back, slammed in as deep as he could get, and came with an almost startled shout. He let himself fall forward, biting at Jaskier's shoulders and neck as he emptied himself into him, just the way he'd asked.

When it was over, Geralt allowed himself another moment before separating. Letting his forehead press against Jaskier's spine, he closed his eyes for a moment and just breathed. As his heart began to slow back to something in the general vicinity of normal he pushed himself up and let go of Jaskier's hand, which he'd still had pinned. He pulled out, wincing a little at the last bit of friction on his oversensitive cock, then took a step back and collapsed into the chair he'd started out in, legs shaking too hard to do anything else.

What he hadn't considered was that this put him at exactly the right height to watch as a drop of his come escaped Jaskier's hole. A jolt ran down his spine at that, his puffy and well-fucked rim with a trickle of come - _his_ come - adorning it…

"Fuck," Geralt muttered.

As if the word had broken through whatever daze Jaskier had fallen into, he pushed himself to standing as well, turning around. "Fuck, indeed," he said, voice rough from the steady stream of cries, moans, and whimpers that had spilled from his lips while they were fucking. Jaskier’s jeans slid the rest of the way down his legs and he stepped free of them with careless, half-drunken grace.

Only to then immediately stumble over literally nothing. Geralt reached out on instinct and caught his hips to steady him, which Jaskier apparently decided was an invitation. Closing the last of the scant space between them, Jaskier straddled Geralt's lap and settled his weight on those delightfully thick thighs. He wound his fingers through Geralt's pale hair and sighed.

"It _is_ as soft as it looks," he murmured, leaning in for a lazy kiss that quickly grew deeper, flickers of heat building between them again already. When Geralt growled softly, fingers digging into Jaskier's hips, the younger man leaned back and shook his head, delighting in the way Geralt leaned into him and chased the contact looking for more.

"Ah-ah, greedy thing," Jaskier said breathlessly, though he immediately gave in and let Geralt steal another kiss, then another after that. But he pushed himself back again then, shaking his head and smiling. "As hot as getting bent over the kitchen table and fucked was, I'm not as young as I used to be and I could do without the aches and pains tomorrow. Bed, Geralt," he said, though his attempt at firmness wavered at Geralt's hand curling around the back of his neck and dragging him down into another kiss. "Be- mmph," he panted against his roommate's lips. _"Bed, Geralt."_

Somehow Jaskier got them up and properly naked and moving toward his bedroom, clothes abandoned on the kitchen floor, mind running a little ahead to what he could do with the extra space and access to a few toys as they made their way down the hallway. "You know," he remarked idly as they passed the one spot of unadorned, flate bare wall, "I've fantasized so many times about you snapping and shoving me up against that wall right there."

And then the world was moving wildly around him and the breath was knocked from his chest with a low _oof_ as it struck the wall. Jaskier bucked back into the heat of the body behind him, a groan escaping when he found himself bracketed in by Geralt's broad arms and trapped, unable to do anything but squirm as Geralt ground against his ass, letting Jaskier feel that he was half-hard again already.

"Like this?"

Jaskier shuddered as he _felt_ the rumble of that directly against his spine.

"Or this?"

Jaskier was spun around and before he could get his bearings there were broad hands gripping his thighs. He yelped as he was lifted off the ground, instinctively wrapping his legs around Geralt's narrow hips. "Fuck," he gasped. "Fuck, you're strong. Do I weigh anything to you?"

"Not really," Geralt replied, an unmistakable note of smugness in his voice as he leaned in and set his teeth into Jaskier's collarbone.

The jolt that sent directly to Jaskier's cock almost hurt, so soon after that first mind-flayingly intense orgasm. But it was rare he could find a partner with the strength to manhandle him around like this and he was going to wring every delightful drop of pleasure from it while he had it, so he flinched into it rather than away, throwing his arms around Geralt's shoulders. "Bed," he demanded again, letting his head fall back against the wall with a thump as sharp teeth scraped over his pulse.

Jaskier let out a little yelp as Geralt, instead of putting him down, took his full weight away from where he'd been propped against the wall and walked the last couple yards to Jaskier's bedroom door. "Oh, you wonderful, perfect brute," he gasped, digging his fingers into the unfairly thick swell of muscles across Geralt's shoulders. "This hardly seems fair," he added. "You just being able to pick me up and toss me around like this. I ought to give you a taste of it, pin _you_ down next time."

Geralt snorted. "You could try," he said, nudging the unlatched door open enough to let them through.

Jaskier had just been babbling away, saying whatever popped into his head as was his wont, but that…something in that casually arrogant tone just _needed_ a response. "Is that a challenge?" he asked.

Another snort. "You can take it that way if you like," Geralt replied. "Won't do you any good."

Oh, that self-satisfied, infuriating…Jaskier grinned, all sharp edges and teeth. "We'll see about that," he said, unhooked his legs from around Geralt's waist and squirmed hard enough to throw them both off-balance. The unexpected move made Geralt stagger, and Jaskier smirked and did it again, sending them to the ground as Geralt overbalanced and lost his grip.

They tumbled to the floor, rolling across the rug. Jaskier swung his hips and caught Geralt by surprise, managing to land on top of the larger man. He threw his hands forward, grasping tightly at Geralt’s wrists, and then everything stopped.

Geralt looked up at him with wide eyes, his lip trembling slightly, breath catching with a soft sound. In the low light of Jaskier’s room, they were almost golden. His breaths fluttered in his chest and Jaskier could feel Geralt’s cock harden fully beneath him.

Oh, Jaskier thought dizzily, watching his stoic, self-assured roommate melt into a shivering, overwhelmed mess just from the touch of Jaskier’s hands about his wrists and the feeling of being caught, pinned…helpless.

_Oh_.

**Author's Note:**

> I have teamed up with the phenomenal Jadelyn to bring you the next installment in the Semi-Charmed series! This one is a two-part fic and is full of absolute shenanigans and crack fickery. 
> 
> Shamelessly indulgent, this work IS in fact, based both on horrifyingly true stories and absolutely made-up rubbish. This is an S-Tier Crack AU and you should expect nothing less than total ridiculousness. If you're here for a serious fic I'm afraid you've come to the wrong place. If you're here to laugh, cry, laugh from crying, possibly cry from laughing....you've come to the right place, my guy.
> 
> Thanks to the phenomenal Jadelyn for being my beta and my sounding board for all of my absolutely insane ideas and for co-authoring this one! 
> 
> And as always, your comments sustain my pathetic life force and fuel the dumpster fire that you see here today. Thank you guys for reading and going on this journey with me.


End file.
